


The Secret: The Book Of One Shots

by KilgarraghForever



Series: The Secret [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: But Google Does, Gen, I Don't Speak Old English, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pranks, Set In 'The Secret' Universe, Wingfic, one shots, read that first, so i used that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28508736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilgarraghForever/pseuds/KilgarraghForever
Summary: These are oneshots that happen in my The Secret universe, but don't fit in with the main story. Enjoy!
Series: The Secret [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088294
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The Secret: The Book Of One Shots

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, my beautiful readers! This is a sort of interval thing set in my 'The Secret' universe but not really innkeeping with the timeline of it. So it's here in 'The Secret: Book of One Shots' which will get updated sporadically with little funny stories that happen in the Secret universe but have no impact on it. Also, none of these will fit in the main story's timeline, but I wanted them in the story. So now this exists.

Samhain. The time of year when the king held a magnificent feast, pumpkins were carved to ward off evil spirits, and a festival the likes of which was only rivalled by the Harvest and Yule was celebrated. Of course, to Arthur, this was nothing special, as it happened every year, and saw it as no reason to give Merlin the day off. In fact, it seemed that Samhain was a reason to give Merlin even more chores than usual.

"No, _Mer_ lin, the only new chore on your list is to help serve at the Samhain feast tonight. Other than that, everything else is the same as always," Arthur corrected.

"Yes, because it's normally my job to -" Merlin looked at the list he'd been handed; it was nearly the length of his wingspan. "-clean the kitchen, polish _all_ the knight's armour, and the rest of their equipment," Merlin retorted sarcastically. "Don't you have kitchen staff to do that, and don't the knights have their own squires to clean their stuff?"

"I have given the kitchen staff the day off after the feast, and the knight's squires are all off celebrating Samhain today. So therefore it is your job to do the tasks that would have been theirs," Arthur replied smoothly, conveniently forgetting that Merlin wasn't the only servant in Camelot. Merlin sighed, shifting his wings, and left to get on with the mammoth list of tasks he had to do in ten hours.

oo00Merlin00oo

The day passed in a blur of cleaning products, shouting people and buckets of water. By the time it was time for the knight's daily session of training, or (as Merlin liked to call it) 'How Much Brain Damage Can The Knights Do In An Hour?'. Currently, Merlin was in the armoury, waiting for Arthur to come and shout at him about swords and bashing people upside the head. As he was searching for Arthur's greaves, two men entered the armoury, clanking. Merlin whipped around, Arthur's sword held in front of him, and his wings flared dangerously close to the sharp pointy metal sticks. The first man jumped, and the other one swore. Loudly. In a voice that Merlin recognised to be Gwaine's. He dropped the sword immediately, and it fell to the floor with a clang that reverberated around the entire room.

"Bloody hell, Merlin! You looked like some sort of avenging angel, mate," Gwaine said, shock clear in his voice, causing Merlin to laugh, lowering his wings from their defensive positions. The other man shook his head and bent down to retrieve the sword that Merlin had dropped. Merlin recognised the man, but he couldn't quite place a name to the face.

"Sorry for scaring you, Merlin," the knight said, offering the sword to him. Merlin took it, and replaced it on it's place on the bench along with the rest of Arthur's armour, other than his greaves, which Merlin still had not found.

"It's no problem - I should have been paying more attention," Merlin said, rebuking the apology.

"Hey, Merlin, mate," Gwaine said, looking as though he had just remembered something. "You know that plant... The one that makes you really itchy, that Leon fell in the other day on that hunt?" Merlin nodded. "What was it's name... Uh... Dogwood! Yeah, that was it. Well, it gave me an idea. If dogwood can be itchy, why can't something else. Well, after some experimentation, me and Hiccup here discovered this bush thing whose seeds cause itching, but they don't leave a rash like dogwood did. And, if you grind them into a powder, the itching is worse and it's virtually undetectable."

"Okay..." Merlin said, wondering where Gwaine was going with this.

"So we thought... Well, Hiccup thought and I agreed, why not use it to prank the Princess?" Gwaine finished. He was grinning along with Sir Hiccup, who was the other man.

"Yeah. I've got some here. I figured that if we put this itchy plant powder into the King's armour, as he trains, the movement will force the powder through the gaps in the weave of his clothing, putting it in direct contact with his skin, causing it to itch. Then it'll be a brilliant laugh watching him fidget while he's trying to be all serious," Sir Hiccup explained, showing Merlin a small bag. He opened it, revealing a white powder inside. Merlin smiled.

oo00Merlin00oo

As the knight's trained in the weak light of the sun, Arthur suddenly felt an itch on his arm. He ignored it, focusing entirely on fighting his opponent and winning. The itching spread until almost all of Arthur's body itched. This distracted him enough for Percival, whom he was fighting, to land a hard blow to his side and knock him to the ground. He waited to the count of three, then helped Arthur up. Arthur then moved aside for the next poor knight to fight Percival. The itching had still not stopped, and he fidgeted, attempting to quell the itching while he called all the knights to him.

"Men," he started, shifting. "You have all done well today, but there is always room for improvement. Sir Lancelot!" he called suddenly, said knight looking like a deer in headlights, not that they knew what one of those was. "Where could you have improved?"

"I... Uh..." Lancelot trailed off, staring at Arthur. "Are you alright, Sire?" he asked.

"Yes," Arthur replied, firmly ignoring the ever growing discomfort of this blasted itching. He moved a little more.

"Are you certain, Sire. Only, you're fidgeting around quite a bit," Lancelot pointed out, while some of the others nodded and made noises of agreement.

"I'm perfectly fine, Sir Lancelot. You, however, have not yet answered my question. So, I'll put it to all of you. Where did Sir Lancelot go wrong in the ring?"

Arthur shifted around almost constantly, growing more annoyed. He snapped at all the knights that they were dismissed, missing the looks of concealed laughter on Sirs Gwaine and Hiccup. He attempted to saunter off to the armoury, but more did a sort of hopping shuffling routine. Merlin was waiting for him, smirking. He didn't say a word as he helped Arthur out of his armour, putting it back on it's shelf. Arthur fidgeted in discomfort the entire time. He had hoped that the itching was merely his armour chafing against his skin, but it appeared not. A sudden thought struck him.

"Merlin, I think I've been cursed!" Arthur exclaimed!

"Why do you think that?" Merlin asked, warily.

"Because I'm itching all all over my body, and I can't find the source! It must be magic!" Arthur shouted, leaping to his feet and waving his sword. Merlin backed away, wondering if Uther's ghost had possessed Arthur.

"Arthur, you don't know that it's magic. It might be that you're allergic to something, or it might be a prank from one of the knights," Merlin reasoned, his wings shifting nervously. Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"Do you know something about this, Merlin?" Arthur asked, glaring.

"No," Merlin answered, puffing up his wings unconsciously.

"Hmm," Arthur hummed, clearly not convinced, then left. Merlin breathed a sigh of relief.

oo00Merlin00oo

Three days before Samhain, invites went out to all the noble families in Camelot, inviting them to the Samhain feast. Of course, all but one accepted (the one being the Potters, who were notorious being antisocial, and who were only invited as a formality) meaning that Camelot had at least a hundred guests to feed and wine at the feast. The servants had to work around the clock to get everything perfect, but no one minded as the overtime pay was spectacular. There were at least a hundred dishes to cook, tables to lay, the castle needed to be decorated, and, for those who were servants to a specific person, people to make presentable. And this had to happen every year within a day. And yet, each year, it did, and the feast itself went with nary a hitch.

This year, however, was different. The first year that the man hosting was not Uther Pendragon, but Arthur Pendragon.

"Welcome, all, to Camelot's annual Samhain celebration!" announced Arthur at the head of the tables. Standing behind him, out of the candlelight was Merlin, who was rolling his eyes as Arthur continued to make his long, boring speech when all anyone there wanted to do was begin eating. After at least ten minutes, Arthur finished, and the feast began in earnest. After a while, almost everyone was well and truly intoxicated. Arthur himself had had at least four glasses of wine, and was happily chattering away to some lord or other who was equally as drunk about the people's taxes. Extremely dull. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, there was an extremely loud bang.

The doors to the main hall flew open with such force that they were yanked from their hinges, and sailed over the heads of the nobles, shattering against the far wall. Merlin discretely cast a spell to stop any of the larger splinters hitting any of the guests. No one was paying any attention to the shattered doors, however. All heads were turned in the direction of the large hole in the wall where the doors previously stood. A figure, shrouded in a black cloak, stood silently, holding a what appeared to be a large pole. The torches had gone out with the wind generated by the flying doors, but they relit themselves, revealing the figure. Light glinted off of the previously unnoticed metal on the pole, making it out to be a scythe.

"It's the Grim Reaper!" shouted one particular moronic noble by the name of Flash Thompson, causing everyone else to start screaming too. The 'Grim Reaper' seemed to be rather annoyed about this.

"I am not the Grim Reaper!" shouted the 'Grim Reaper', who, being as of yet unknown, was going to be called the Grim Reaper until they offer up a name for herself. The Grim Reaper had a very feminine voice, Merlin noted. "My name is -" Thunder boomed over head, obscuring the Grim Reaper's name. "-and I am here to kill the King!"

"Of course you are, love. Where is he?" Arthur slurred, obviously more drunk than Merlin had originally thought. "Show yourself King! You coward!" Merlin shook his head, then walked in front of the king.

"And who exactly are you?" the Grim Reaper sneered. Merlin flared his wings, and stood up to his full height. All things considered, Merlin made quite an intimidating figure. There were many gasps from around the room. With a quick, slightly mocking nod, all of the guests fell asleep, Flash Thompson falling directly into a large bowl of some sort of sticky vegetable. The Grim Reaper faltered, but quickly recovered.

"My, my. Well, isn't this my lucky day? Emrys himself coming to face little old -" a man fell of off his chair, pulling his plate with him, creating a loud crash that covered anything the Grim Reaper had said. "Ugh! For evil's sake!" she said, waving her scythe. A flash of green erupted from the metal, severing the large chandelier in half, one half left swinging, the other falling directly towards Arthur's unconscious form. Merlin waved his hand, eyes flashing gold, and the twisted thing span into the wall. "Sorry about that," the Grim Reaper put a finger to her chin sarcastically. "Oh, wait. No, I'm not. Hwôn setlan wenian êower lyftfloga!" she yelled, twisting fire bursting into existence, heading straight for Merlin; he dodged it, sending the fire screaming back at its creator, who extinguished the flames.

"L¯æce ðætte!" Merlin yelled, sending a blue shape at his opponent, who merely said, "Yfel fremian n¯ænig pro tôs¯ælanûtlêoran faran," sending the blue shape into a smile shaped crack that appeared out of the blue.

"Under−bæc cuman ðone as tôweard!" Merlin enunciated, thrusting both hands towards the Grim Reaper as orange light encased her. "Grundlêaslic shooting!" he continued, the orange becoming closer and closer to the Grim Reaper's form. "Onbîdan wýscan first...Onbîdan wýscan first... Damn it! I don't know your name!" The Grim Reaper smirked, the orange light dissipating instantly.

"Smeoruw!" the Grim Reaper said, grinning maniacally as pink blades of pure magic imbedded themselves in Merlin's wings. It hurt like hell, and forced him to drop their threatening position. Without them, Merlin looked a lot smaller, and a lot less intimidating.

"Tungol..." Merlin rasped, and the Grim Reaper was knocked unconscious by the other half of the broken chandelier, which fell on her, trapping her but not killing her. Merlin collapsed, exhaustion and pain overtaking his body.

oo00Merlin00oo

Merlin was standing in a sunny field, littered with poppies swaying slightly in the light breeze. Freya stood beside him, resplendent in the dress he had given her. She smiled at him, and the entire landscape seemed to light up more. No. Wait, that's not right, at all. The landscape _did_ light up. Very brightly. Within a few seconds, everything was white. Not snow white, but whiter then anything Merlin had seen before. It was a clean, pure white, not like the white of teeth or that of Arthur's shirts. Suddenly, black shapes wound their way around Merlin, forming symbols that he did not understand. However, a few twisted into words. "DEFFRO MERLIN!' it said.

"Wake up, Merlin?" Merlin muttered. "But I'm not aslee-" **The black shapes grew until the white was entirely covered in the blackness. Merlin screamed when he realised he could not move, flap his wings, nor perform magic.**

Merlin sprang upright, the remains of the screams dying in his throat, wings flapping wildly. He overbalanced, falling to the floor, painfully crushing one wing under his body.

"Merlin?" came Gaius's voice from the main room. Not a second later, Merlin's door was flung open, revealing Gaius standing in the doorway, looking extremely worried. "Merlin!" he near shouted. "What are you doing on the floor?" Gaius hoisted Merlin off of the floor and back into his bed. Only now did Merlin realise how agonising his wings were. He hissed in pain, drawing his wings tight into his body. This action hurt too. Merlin was confused not to feel his familiar feathers on his shoulders, but a scratchy thing. He twisted, and saw bandages covering his wings completely. Then the events of the previous section... Uh, I mean day... caught up with him, memories rushing into his head like wasps to an ice cream.

"Ugh," was Merlin's articulate reply to this. And then, "Ow," as the action of talking hurt his raw throat. Gaius sighed fondly, then patted Merlin's shoulder.

"Why is it that when something happens, it's always you?"

"Believe me, Gaius, I've been asking myself the same question since I got here,"


End file.
